Lover
by Turtle.Prince
Summary: He says he likes the shy you; the you whose cheeks heat up whenever he comments on how you look; the you whose hands tremble ever so slightly at his foreign touches; ...the you who is so inexperienced in this trivial thing called "love." -RL


He says he likes the shy you; the you whose cheeks heat up whenever he comments on how you look; the you whose hands tremble ever so slightly at his foreign touches; ...the you who is so inexperienced in this trivial thing called "_love_."

* * *

He comes most of the nights when he's not busy, like he knows you're always waiting for him, and he will kiss you _"Hello," - as if you're his lover_.

And you will breathe in his smell, this lingering scent of cigarettes, alcohol... _and women_ as your arms encircle around his neck, a contented sigh immediately escaping as you answer back by habit, _"Reborn_._"_

He will smile at you, at the sound of his name, his eyes warm in the vanilla glow of the room - _your_* room - as he mouths, _"Did you miss me?"_

And you say, _"Why would I miss someone like you?"_ but you don't sound angry, even if the smell of women on him bothers you. Your arms will slip from his warm neck, eyes still returning the loving gaze given to you, and you will look him at for the longest moment, not being able to breathe because you're (always) second guessing whether or not he really is there.

No matter how real the warmth on top of you feels.

(You don't know so you don't ask whether he'd be sober because of the strong smell of alcohol when he looks at you on these occasions, but you think you don't want to know. In this room with the vanilla glow illuminating against his chiseled features, you want to treasure that longing look he has in his eyes. Even if he does not intentionally mean it. Maybe he was oblivious that he's doing it. So you play with the idea that maybe he is, that he only looks at _you_ this way.)

_You're so childish..._

But why?

_"Because you love me,"_ as he plays with your hair, the tiniest tickling sensations of his lashes against your jawline making you laugh softly.

_"...Who would love someone like you," _maybe you really are that transparent.

He chuckles, the vibrations sending tingling rings throughout the area of your neck and the rest of your body. _"Silly," _he says in a soft, almost teasing way, _"__**you **__would."_

This person who makes obvious more than once your level of incompetence, bullies you to tears, throws your emotions into a wild roller-coaster travelling through the wakes and aches of young love; this person who not only was insensitive, but was hot-headed, stubborn, quick to temper, drank more than he ate, a smooth-talker, and someone who lies.

A lot.

In other words - a philandering _prick_.

_Yeah_, you guess it _is _pretty silly, being in love with _this person_.

"_Do not_," you softly lie, denying yourself the pleasure of gazing into his (alcohol induced) passion laced amber eyes. It makes your insides tingle; you want to fall in love with his sincerity, not alcohol.

"_Really?_" his lips curve upwards and he tilts his head, seeking your eyes. "_Are you saying you don't love me? Not one bit?"_

"_Not one bit,_" you murmur, meeting his stare head-on now to prove your grounds as he leans closer to you.

"_Is that so..._" he comes closer and closer, and you find it harder to breath; you don't know whether it's from him half lying on you or the distance between the two of you becoming less and less.

But you can't deny him; the softness of his voice, the way the goosebumps slowly appear on your arms under your pajama shirt; his dark lashes that fell at the way he examines you, awaiting the moment you crash; that crooked smile; the tingling, _burning _sensation from your cheeks traveling throughout your entire body as his warm exhale hit your lips; the way they felt so cold when they meet yours.

You love every bit of it. _You love every bit of him_.

"_Reborn-"_

This... This is the most intimate contact you share with him - share _ever _with _anyone_.

_"Do you love me?"_

That saying, there _is_ no one.

_No one but him. _

Because this is fine, just _like this_ is good enough to you. Just a _simple kiss_. ...A simple kiss that leaves you breathless and almost wanting more. But you never ask. You're too afraid. You don't want him to reject you and you can't see him again; can't feel his warmth, his kiss, his embrace; can't have this moment where you feel like you're _his everything_.

"_Yes."_

...Even if it's not true.

* * *

But he doesn't know that you love everything about him; the way he looks at you, when he "smiles" at the smallest thing of little interest, the tiniest words of affection he says to you, the littlest actions (be it just a mere glance). Because you love it, anything and everything about him.

...Even when he says hurtful things to you.

* * *

**A/N :** Hi? /smiles I think it could've been longer, more... detailed, but I think I like it like this. What do you think? Too short?

*_your_ : can mean anything; Lambo's room or a room they share together (sometimes), which is... still Lambo's room, I guess.

*KHR/RL belongs to Amano Akira.


End file.
